


Rhythm And Melody

by pushingthesenses



Series: The Cultist [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing and Singing, F/M, First Dance, I hate tagging, Inspired by Music, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Side Story, Slow Dancing, Song Lyrics, Songfic, and also teaching kylo how to sing/hum, and i'm using turnover as a way in which to do that because of course i am, as most of my writing seems to be, i guess in a wedding way if you want to look at it like that, not me with another song fic, teaching kylo how to dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingthesenses/pseuds/pushingthesenses
Summary: This is an in-story piece relating to The CultistTeaching Kylo how to sing, and how to dance, for the first time.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader
Series: The Cultist [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990063
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Rhythm And Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, once again, with a music inspired piece (and another Turnover song, at that). The song in this fic is [Bonnie (Rhythm and Melody)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxRcy8k38kc) by Turnover, which is just really pretty and ambient and I just think it fits. (Also, now that I think about it, the whole song just sounds like their experience falling in love? I’m soft). As well as that, I **always** dance to this song, and I hum it all the time, too. 
> 
> This piece was inspired by [the ever kind and lovely Sparrowtail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowtail/pseuds/sparrowtail), who brought forward the beautiful idea of teaching Kylo how to sing and listening to him hum, and the absolutely brilliant [Meg](https://meg-solo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, (do make sure to check out her work which is also [here on ao3 if you prefer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Solo_Writes/works)) who brought forward the idea of teaching our lovely, sweet boy how to dance! As always, if any of you have any ideas for more of these little tidbits that we can add to this story (where there might not be room for them in the main fic) feel free to let me know in a comment or over on tumblr. As always, the link to my blog is at the end of this chapter.

_I got a little bit tired of spending all morning_   
_Really wishing that I was still sleeping_   
_But you and me being each other_   
_Feels like it's all I ever needed_

* * *

_“And even though you aren't always sweet,”_

You’re singing again. 

Kylo lifts his head from where it rests in his hand, turning slowly in his chair to look in the direction of the bathroom. Your voice, along with clouds of steam, billows from underneath the door. 

_“You are all that's sweet at all to me,”_

_Sweet_ , he thinks. He prods you, poking at your bond until you begrudgingly respond to him. He senses your irritation - you’re annoyed that he’s interrupted you, though the feeling fades as quickly as it comes. 

_In this context it means nice, delightful._ He hears the water trickle to a stop. _It can also reference how something tastes. Like, if it’s sugary._

Kylo repeats the word _‘sugar’_ questionably under his breath, though he knows you can’t hear him. He’s unsure if he’s ever tasted sugar. 

“I’ll show you one day,” you call out to him. “But I’ll warn you, it’s addictive.” 

“Does that mean it’s good?” 

“ _Very_ ,” the door cracks open and he can see you now, covered only by your towel. He hates it when you do this, though he’s never been able to discern why. He thinks, perhaps, it’s because the sight makes him feel things deep in the core of his body that he quite doesn’t understand - things he wishes he _could_. “Can you pass me my nightdress?” 

He swiftly gets to his feet, picking it up carefully from where it’s draped across the bed. The black silk glides through his fingertips, and he thinks about how soft it must feel against your skin. He steps toward you, placing the garment tentatively in your hands. 

“Thank you,” you move to close the door, but he quickly pulls it back open. The force of it, the way his palm almost slams against the wood, startles you. 

“ _Kylo_ ,” you warn. “I’ll be out in a minute.”   
“Can’t you leave it open?”

You cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Why do you want it open?”  
“So that I can hear you properly.”   
“Hear me do what?”   
“Sing,” he murmurs, retreating back to his seat. “And I don’t like it being closed, anyway.”   
“Well it has to be closed sometimes, Kylo,” you say incredulously. “I need _some_ privacy.” 

Kylo ignores your statement, picking his pen up as he sits back at his desk. He doesn’t care for privacy. He cares only for being close to you. 

“Can you keep singing?”   
“If I have to keep it open, then you can’t turn around.” 

Kylo chooses not to respond. He doesn’t quite understand the meaning of privacy, or why it’s a necessity. He’s never really had it - any moment of quiet he’s _ever_ had has been quickly and brutally interrupted. Every intimate function of his body has been watched, every wash, every toilet break has been assisted and observed. At least, it _was_. Now that privacy is something he’s forced to face, he’s unsure he understands its purpose. Even showering by himself is still a task - he’s not quite sure how to do much of anything on his own. And though you know this, and though you _know_ he won’t turn around now that you’ve asked him not to, you still duck behind the door, completely out of sight. 

You slip your nightdress on in seconds, tossing your towel to the corner of the bathroom floor. You don’t have the luxury of a laundry basket. But whenever you leave the room for dinner or for training, the dirty towels have disappeared, fresh ones in their place. You often wonder who takes them, who tends to your quarters while you’re out. You wonder if they have more freedom than you do. Than Kylo does. 

You step back into the room, barefoot and clean, your skin still slightly damp. You hum softly as you make your way to the bed. The notes hang in the air, magical and empyreal and oh, so _pretty_. Kylo sits up straight in his seat. 

“Now what are you doing?” Kylo turns to you, watching as you sit.   
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re singing but...not.” 

You laugh softly. His naivety - his innocence, really - though tragic, is still beautiful to you. His willingness to learn, even moreso. 

“It’s called humming. It’s like, singing with your mouth closed.” 

He turns back to his paper, unconvinced. 

“That seems strange.”  
“Does it _sound_ strange?”  
“No, it sounds nice,” he mumbles, dipping into his ink. “But why wouldn’t you just sing when it sounds so pretty?”   
“I don’t always want to sing.”  
“Why not?” His brows furrow.   
“Would _you_ always want to sing?”   
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t know how.” 

You pause for a moment, observing the curve of his back, the curls of hair that crest around his crown. You contemplate if anyone has ever told him how stunning, how wonderfully and painfully handsome he truly is. 

“Would you like me to teach you?”

He turns back to you, silently observing you with devoted attention. There’s a lot of things Kylo wishes he could do. He wonders, as he looks at you, if he’ll ever be able to teach you as much as you’ve taught him.

He nods softly, turning fully in his seat. 

“It’s easy,” you walk to him with a spring in your step, a bounce almost. His eyes remain fixated on you as you come to stand before him. “It’s like talking, but you just drag it out. Try going like _‘ahhhh’_.” 

Your speech is fast, emotive, and Kylo realises as he feels it sizzle across your bond - you’re excited. You’re absolutely _animated_ , like he’s never quite seen before. He almost smiles - _almost_. But once again, he settles into a half smile, instead. 

“ _Ahhh_ ,” he mimics. “Like that?”

“Yes, like that!” You grin. “Now, try changing the pitch,” you make the same sound again, only lower, deeper. Kylo mimics you to perfection, the baritone nature of his voice aiding his efforts. You marvel at how quickly he learns. He’s capable of anything, you believe that wholly. He could have the world, if he so wished. 

“Okay, now try higher,” you vocalise again, and Kylo’s brow furrows, clearing his throat.   
“I’m not sure I can do that, not like you can,” he says, rubbing at his throat.   
“You don’t have to go as high as I do,” you smile, and your reassurance reignites his faltering confidence. “Just go as high as you’re comfortable with.” 

He coughs, and tries his best. The pitch is still low, and he chastises himself internally. 

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t-” He shakes his head in frustration, and you can feel the anger rise in his chest.  
“Hey, hey,” you lean closer to him, and your proximity calms him - the tenderness, the warmth it stirs in him triggers a wave of peace that dutifully extinguishes his self doubt. “That’s okay, you’re doing just fine. Do you think you can sing the words, now?”

He nods slowly.

“If you teach me.” 

_“I got a little bit tired of spending all morning, really wishing that I was still sleeping,”_ you sing along to the melody, swaying slightly as you do.   
_“I got a little bit tired of spending all morning, really wishing that I was still sleeping,”_ He repeats the words exactly as you sang them, perfectly following your tune and pitch.   
“You’re good at this!”   
“ _You're-_ ” he stops. “I wasn’t supposed to repeat that.” 

The laugh you let out sets his pulse racing. He’ll search for that sound until his dying day, he’s sure of it. 

“It’s okay, let’s keep going,” you sway again, and he watches curiously as you move. “ _But you and me being each other feels like it’s all I’ve ever needed._ ” 

He copies your tune, moving in his chair as he follows your movements. You’re twirling around the room, spinning and swaying as you continue singing.

_“Now all I can hear is rhythm and melody in my ears, it sounds like it feels all the time,”_

He repeats your words, though his tone falters as he becomes distracted by how you whirl around. He tapers off, tilting his head to the side in question. 

“What is this?”   
“What’s what?” You don’t look at him, too lost in the feeling of how the air feels as it glides between your fingertips.   
“What are you _doing?_ ”  
“ _Dancing_.”   
“What’s the purpose of this?” he stands, observing you cautiously. “Is it ceremonial?”   
“No,” you laugh, coming to a halt before him. You stumble, dizzy from your performance. He steady’s you, gripping your elbow as you tumble forward. “Well, it can be, but that’s not what I’m doing. It’s just fun.”  
“It doesn’t look fun, you could have fallen.”   
“But I didn’t,” you smile. “Would you like to dance with me?” 

Kylo’s brow furrows, and he almost hates that you ask. He’s so completely and utterly devoted to you, to your voice, to your eyes, to your soul that’s so perfectly blended with his. He’d do anything you ask of him without a second thought. 

He nods slowly, cautiously approaching you. You hold out your hands to him, a voiceless question reverberating through the air between you.

_Can I touch you?_

Kylo reaches for your outstretched hands, intertwining your fingers with his in a silent answer. His body steps close to yours, and he looks at you quizzically. 

“Now what?”   
“Now, we move,” you step back, taking Kylo with you. He follows stiffly as you move across the room, your hands still intertwined with his. He looks down at your feet, how quickly and daintily they move across the floor. His movements feel wrong.   
“Loosen your shoulders a little,” you say, “Don’t be afraid to let yourself be more fluid.” 

He rolls his shoulders before relaxing, and even his hands become pliant in your grip. You start singing again, stirring your momentum and giving you both a tune to move to. 

_“I’m balancing perfectly in between awake and a dream.”_

Kylo hums quietly along with you, not quite realising that he’s doing it. He’s too absorbed, too focused on how your body moves, on how it brushes lightly against his as you guide him across the room. You let go of one of his hands, lifting the other up and twirling yourself beneath it. Kylo half-smiles again, not understanding exactly what it is that you’re doing, but revelling in the sight nonetheless. 

“You’re getting good at this,” you muse. “I think you’re a natural.” 

He moves his hand to your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

“Of course,” you smile.

He moves you closer to him, taking the lead and guiding you across the wooden floorboards. They creak unhappily beneath your feet, adding to the symphony you’ve created as you both harmonize your melodies. 

_“I can't explain this new sensation,_ ” you twirl around again, and this time, Kylo guides you. _“It kind of feels like falling but what's underneath me's soft as velvet.”_

Kylo sighs happily, contentment washing over him. He watches you smile as you sing, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever lay eyes on anything so sublime. 

“Do you like this?” You ask him as you follow his lead, and he nods emphatically. 

“Can we keep going?” His tone is hopeful, and you desperately hope that he knows that you’d never deny him this, or much of anything else. Least of all something so pure, so simple. 

“Of course,” you allow him to twirl you again. He likes this, watching you spin. “But on one condition," You wink at him as you speak, and though he doesn't understand the definition of such a gesture, his heart races in his chest.  
"What would that be?"  
"You let me change with the door closed," he makes a disgruntled face at your demand, and you smile at him knowingly. "I know you want to feel close to me, but I really do need a little privacy."

Kylo relaxes his features, nodding in concession. He tries in vain to repeat your gesture, attempting a wink but blinking harshly instead. You laugh softly and his mouth turns upward only slightly. 

"I can do that," he says quietly.   
"Then we can do this whenever you want." 

And when he falls asleep tonight, his limbs inches from yours, he’ll think of this. Of how your skin glows in the candlelight, of how your skin feels against his, of how you glide so effortlessly, barefoot and beautiful. And he hopes you’ll think of him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [come and say hello on tumblr!](https://kkysolo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
